You'll Come Back
by booksandmusic19
Summary: Inspired in part by Regina Spektor's "The Call". Lucy thinks about the imprint Narnia has left on their lives, and realizes it is more of a home than England ever could be.


Author's Note: Hello, everyone! This little oneshot just sort of crept up behind me while I was listening to Regina Spektor's _The Call_ – which, by the way, is the song that the text in italics is from. It's just a wonderful song, and I thought it suited Lucy so well. I'm not going to specify any time or setting, because it isn't entirely necessary, and because I hope that what setting I have put in here is enough. And hopefully I've written the Valiant Queen in character…

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia. Nor do I own a pretty wardrobe through which I can attempt to enter any strange, lovely worlds. Nor do I own _The Call _by Regina Spektor.

**You'll Come Back**

_It started out as a feeling__  
__Which then grew into a hope._

As she waited on the platform, her thoughts turned, as they so often did these days, to Narnia.

The first time she had ever set foot in Narnia, she knew she belonged. Even before meeting Mr. Tumnus and even despite learning of the White Witch's terrible reign, she had known that England could not even begin to compare with its beauty and magic. And when her siblings had entered Narnia, she hoped that they too would love this new world she had found. She had met Aslan, and she knew that the Great Lion would always protect her, and she had learned to see Him everywhere in Narnia. She loved meeting each and every one of the citizens of Narnia and knowing their stories and families.

When they left, after that fateful day they were hunting the White Stag, she had been the one to comfort her siblings. So many times previously had they relied on Peter to anchor them that it was quite the juxtaposition to be their rock. She had been the one to assure them that it was surely Aslan's doing; he could not have let them leave their home without having a reason for it.

She watched as Peter became so different from the High King she had known and loved, unsure how to halt the change. Around her (and the others) he was still their Peter, but she hated how he was so unsure in this suddenly strange world, this England. And despite the brave smile that she plastered on her face, she found herself crying at night, begging Aslan to bring her and Edmund and Susan and Peter back to Narnia, where she belonged. Back home.

Then her prayers were answered, it seemed, but not quite. She was thrust into a savage Narnia, a place ruled by Men and devoid of Talking Beasts. It wasn't her home, not really. But it was more her home than the Other Place, and so she threw herself into the effort to put Caspian on the throne.

It was only after they left that she realized it had been far too short a time to be in Narnia, and an even shorter time to be with Aslan. And then Peter had said that Aslan didn't mean for him and Susan to return. She knew that had been devastating for her older siblings, and she felt a little guilty, because Aslan had _not_ told her or Edmund they would not return. Surely it meant that the Lion planned for them to return to Narnia. Peter had regained his sense of duty, and when she looked at him she saw only a king, not a boy who was angry at something taken away from him. It was Susan who had taken it worst, though her sister would not be comforted.

The possibility of being able to return home to Narnia kept her going through the long months at Aunt Alberta's and Uncle Harold's house. And even Eustace could not put a damper on the joy she felt when they traveled through the painting and back into Narnia with Edmund. Once again the time had been too brief. When they met with Aslan at the entrance to His Country, it had been bittersweet. He had told them that they must find Him in their world, that He was there if only they looked.

But she knew the Place they returned to was not their world. Granted, it was the world they had been born in and the world in which they now were to live in, but she knew that their world - hers and Edmund's and Susan's and Peter's - was Narnia. Edmund had been the one to comfort her that time. She had spent many a night in his arms, sobbing. Bad enough they had to leave, but to know they would never return was rather like being exiled.

The two of them had, with Eustace, searched for Aslan and with the help of Peter, they found Him. She was happy, for though England was not her world, she knew that Aslan was there as well. And how terrible could a world be, if Aslan was there?

It had certainly seemed terrible enough when Susan forgot. Whether by accident or on purpose, she did not know, and no amount of pleading could convince her sister to believe otherwise. It had been very nearly unbearable to see her sister become a shell of what she once was in Narnia, using rouge and lipstick to mimic what joy and magic had once done. What was almost worse was the thought that Peter might forget as well. She and Edmund had constantly dogged their brother, refusing to let him alone, until finally he had assured them that he could no sooner forget Narnia and Aslan than he could forget his name.

That had been a small comfort.

They had received a very thick letter from Eustace soon afterward. He had gone to Narnia with a schoolmate, Jill Pole. She tried to be happy, and she succeeded somewhat. But she still yearned to return to Narnia, to dance with the dryads and nymphs and to see her siblings really smile, not half smiles that, though they reached their eyes, never truly showed joy.

She asked Him to allow them to return once again, but no magic portal opened between the worlds, no wardrobe or painting came to life. So she had tried to content herself with growing up in England, and settling for remembering Narnia in the stories she, Peter, and Edmund shared each Night after supper. Though Susan scoffed, she had seen her sister twice at the door, wistfully looking in at their fond recollections.

"This is our home," she had said, gesturing to the house. But Lucy Pevensie knew different. She knew that though she was to stay in England, it was only temporary and that she would return to Narnia - to her home- when it needed her.

The train stopped, and she saw her cousin and a girl who must have been Jill waving from a compartment. Queen Lucy the Valiant glanced back at the platform, raised a hand in farewell to her mother, and boarded the train.

_Youll come back when they call you__  
__No need to say goodbye.__  
_


End file.
